


Harry Potter and His Saving Theo Thing

by Lomonaaeren



Series: From Litha to Lammas [12]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Getting Together, M/M, Mentions of past suicide, Minor Character Death, Not Epilogue Compliant, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2020-07-10 12:22:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19905649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lomonaaeren/pseuds/Lomonaaeren
Summary: Harry can think of worse things to do than helping Theodore Nott rejoin society. And after a while, so can Theo.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is another of my “From Litha to Lammas” fics, for an anonymous request that asked for _a light-hearted post-war fic where Harry, deciding not to join the Aurors, doesn't know what he wants to do with his life. Feeling aimless and a little bored, he decides to help Theodore Nott, who has become reclusive, anti-social, and on the Ministry's list for suspicious individuals, rejoin society._ There are also a few other parts of the prompt that I will be using. This fic will have multiple parts, but at the moment I’m unsure if it will be three or four.

****Harry looked thoughtfully at the list that Ron had brought back from Auror training to their little flat. “Huh. I understand why most of these people are on here, but why is Nott?” It was hard to even conjure an image of Theodore Nott, when he thought about it. Pale, skinny, quiet, didn’t follow Malfoy, always had a book whenever Harry saw him—yeah, that was about it.

Ron shook a finger at him from the other side of a large spread of takeaway boxes. “Remember, mate, that’s supposed to be confidential. You can’t tell anyone you saw it.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Harry rolled his eyes and put the list aside, reaching for a piece of fish from the nearest box. “I still want to know why it mentions Nott.”

“Well, he’s acted a bit suspiciously since the war, hasn’t he? Hiding away in his house, refusing to talk to anyone. His dad offed himself, and Nott didn’t even attend his _funeral_.” Ron let his words trail off. “Come on, mate, you know this.”

“No, I don’t. You know I’ve avoided the papers.”

“Sooner or later _you_ have to rejoin the world, too, mate.”

Harry snorted. “I’ve only spent a few months relaxing and thinking about what I want to do, and not joining the Auror Corps.” He leaned back so the little rickety chair beneath him creaked warningly. Harry had thought about buying better furniture, but it might have felt like a comment on Ron’s lack of Galleons, and honestly, having furniture like this was fine. “That doesn’t mean I’ve become a recluse.”

“Yeah, well, Nott is. He just hides behind wards in his house and even refuses the summons to the Ministry.”

“What was he summoned for?”

“I forget.” Ron shook his head and finished eating the noodles entwined around his fork. “Mostly that there were unanswered questions about his father’s involvement with the Death Eaters and they wanted to talk to him, I think.”

“But he doesn’t have the Dark Mark himself.”

“No,” Ron conceded, sounding reluctant. “But you can see how it looks pretty bloody suspicious.”

Harry tilted his head to the side. “Maybe I ought to go talk to him.”

“What? I mean, mate, I know I said I wanted you to get out of the flat, but I think that magical creature rescue you were talking about starting with Luna is a better idea! You don’t need to talk to Nott. He doesn’t _need_ your help.”

“Look at it this way,” Harry said, and let the chair tip back down, just for Ron’s wince as it slammed into the floor. They were on the ground floor, but Ron seemed to have kept his feelings about noise from the Burrow, when he probably would have received a scolding from Molly for that. “Either I find out that there’s nothing suspicious going on, and the Ministry can take his name off the list. Or I find out there _is_ , and we have time to prevent him from going down the Death Eater road.”

“So, what? Does that mean you’d bring him in? Kingsley would _insist_ you be an Auror then.”

“No, it means we could hopefully prevent anyone else from following Voldemort’s ideals. Oh, _honestly_ , Ron, he’s _dead_.”

“Just don’t like the name,” Ron muttered, and floated an empty takeaway box over to the bin. “Okay, fine. But he doesn’t answer the Ministry’s owls. What makes you think that he’d answer yours?”

“I was thinking of visiting Nott House, not sending an owl.”

“Yeah, okay.” Ron’s eyebrows had winged up all the way. “Good luck, mate.”

*

Harry stood outside the gates of Nott House and admired the theme it had going on. The gates in front of him were made of some twisted material that looked like wrought iron but was probably more pure-blood and fancy than that. It slunk together like vines that had grown and tangled around one another, and the points on top of the gates looked like thorns.

The path up to the house was made of black stone, utterly unreflective and refusing to shine in the weak summer sun above. The house itself stood on a green hill, and it was black, and loomed, and was probably made of the same stone. Harry could see arches, buttresses, columns, and half a dozen other architectural features that he’d forgotten the name of. The silver front door was the only splash of color that relieved the darkness even slightly.

There was a silver bell next to the gates, too. Harry rang it, and waited.

In utter silence, the gates swung open. Harry raised his eyebrows, but started walking down the dark path. He’d thought the first sign of acknowledgment, if he even got one today, would be a house-elf popping up in front of him or a doom-laden voice telling him to abandon hope.

This was fine, though.

The surface of the black road hurt his feet, as though it was somehow harder than concrete. Harry ignored that. If this went at all well, Nott would presumably give him permission to Floo or Apparate in.

When he reached the silver door, it opened with the same silence as the gates had. Harry walked in, although he made sure that his wand was loose in his sleeve, ready to grip. Just in case.

The entrance hall beyond the door was nearly the size of Hogwarts’s, rising several floors and encircled by balconies. The only staircase in sight was a spiral one that a team of centaurs could have mounted. On one side of the enormous room was a corridor, almost tunnel-like, lined with torches, that flared to life.

 _Well, okay. I reckon I’m supposed to take that._ Harry walked down the tunnel and found, past a labyrinth of other closed doors, a battered black oak one standing open at the end.

“What are you doing here, Potter?”

Nott’s voice rolled through the room, deeper than Harry remembered. Then again, he didn’t remember it from Hogwarts all that well. “Visiting you and seeing if you want to rejoin society or not and stop those annoying Ministry owls,” Harry said. He stepped through the oaken door, and blinked.

The room here was almost comically small after the size of the great hall in front. There was a fireplace that ran the length of it, though, with a black marble mantel and what looked to be at least two whole logs burning in it. The shelves held leather-bound books that barely reflected the light.

In front of the fireplace was a set of black chairs so overstuffed that they looked as though they would erupt raven feathers any second. Nott sat in the farthest of them, with a frown engraved on his face.

Harry sat down in the other one.

“Why would you want to do that? We weren’t friends at Hogwarts, and I didn’t do anything to help you in the war.”

“Well, I don’t remember you doing anything to help Voldemort, either.” Harry regretted his automatic use of the name a little when Nott flinched. “Mostly, I don’t want you to be suspected of doing something wrong if you haven’t, and I don’t want to deal with another Death Eater if you’re inclined to go down that path.”

“So what you’re saying is, this is selfish. You think they would call on you later to stop me, and you’d rather not have to.”

“You could also be innocent. Nice of you to skip over that, Nott.”

Nott sighed, and abruptly sagged a little back against the chair. He wore black robes with silver trim, because of course he would, and they’d made him appear taller than it seemed he actually was. His dark hair was even longer than Harry had thought, though, because of the way it had blended with the chair. “Does it matter, Potter? The Ministry is going to suspect me no matter what.”

“I could be instrumental in helping them to stop suspecting you. I mean, if you really don’t have any plans to take over the wizarding world.”

“A few kind words wouldn’t do it. Not after the atrocities my father committed. You’d probably have to live here, proclaim my innocence constantly, escort me to social functions, and show that you trust me.”

“I could do that.”

Nott’s mouth flopped open a little, and Harry was almost certain that was the first time in Nott’s life it had ever happened. Then he sat up and shook his head, recovering his poise. “What do you mean? You can’t do that.”

“Well, of course I would need your permission to move in here, and you’d have to accompany me to the functions I get invited to, but that’s practically everything these days. And I have to be convinced of your innocence first. But that shouldn’t be hard.”

“Why _not_?”

“The black-on-black house and the gates that look as if they grew from the ground? Nobody who tries that hard can possibly mean it.”

Nott nodded reluctantly. “You’re right. This house is my father’s legacy, and he wanted people to think he practiced even more Dark Arts than he did.” He paused. “But you’re going to need more than that to sponsor me into society again, right? What would do it? I have to admit that I don’t look forward to being questioned under Veritaserum.”

Harry shook his head. “I’ve done little in the last few months but read and think about what I’ll do with my life. I still haven’t decided on that, but I did learn an interesting spell from a book that my dad left in the Potter vault. It detects pure intentions. Will you let me cast it on you?”

“It would depend on what the spell means by pure.” Nott spoke slowly, his hands clenching together in his lap. “I’ll admit that I don’t intend to stop using all Dark Arts, and I would like to punish my enemies if I get the chance.”

“Do you want to torture them?”

“No!” Not shuddered a little, his hair seeming to detach itself from shadows again as his head moved on the chair. “Never. That was my father’s ideal.”

“Living with him must have been hell. I’m sorry.”

Once again, Nott’s jaw dropped, but he managed to control it better this time. “You’re the only one who’s ever said that to me,” he murmured, studying Harry as though he expected to see someone else beneath the surface of his skin.

“I’m sorry,” Harry repeated, and raised his wand. “This spell was specially designed. It won’t take account of idle wishes for vengeance or ordinary irritation. My father tweaked it so that it wouldn’t reveal when someone intended to pull a prank, in fact. His notes indicate that he was worried about what would happen if he didn’t and my mother used it on him.”

Nott smiled for the first time in their conversation. “Fine.” He sat still as Harry moved his wand slowly down in the wide spiral that the book had described, and golden light appeared where it moved, snapping into a human silhouette that outlined Nott’s body.

It continued to glow gold, with a few patches of red here and there—the particular points of anger that Nott felt. Harry smiled and banished the silhouette with another flick. “That’s good enough for me. You aren’t steeped in evil or going to become a Death Eater, no matter what the Ministry thinks. Now. Are you going to let me help?”

Nott studied him for long enough that Harry thought he would refuse. Well, it would be his right to do that. Harry stared back, enjoying the sensation of confounding someone again. It had been too long since he got to do that.

Nott tilted his head a little. “You would be willing to move in with me? Rumor says that you’re sharing a flat with Weasley. What will he think?”

Harry shrugged. “I’ll give Ron enough Galleons to pay the rent for a few months. Honestly, the only reason we’ve been sharing it and not something better is that Ron has some problems with money, and I didn’t want to live alone or in the house I inherited from my godfather.” He would be fine never going back to Grimmauld Place again, although he did visit sometimes to cheer Kreacher up. “You won’t mind me taking one of the rooms?”

Nott rolled his eyes. “In a house this huge? We never have to be in the same room unless we want to.”

“Good.” Harry stood up. “Then I’ll go tell Ron and make sure that he has the Galleons he needs. Do you have house-elves? Will they mind serving me?”

“They would serve any guest of the house. Even if you are not technically a guest.”

“That’s right,” Harry said. “I’m your own personal savior.”

He grinned at Nott and left before he could either ask how serious Harry was or change his mind. His step was lighter than he could remember it being in aimless months. Yes, this was what he wanted to do, to _help_ someone.

Perhaps he should open that magical creature sanctuary as soon as he was done helping Nott.

*

Theo stood back, staring a little, as Potter guided a few floating trunks in. He hadn’t even bothered to shrink them, and Theo could see why. This was pitifully little for a wealthy wizard to own, even assuming the trunks were both full.

“This is all you’re bringing?” Theo had to ask, despite the obviousness of the question. It would have earned him a day’s worth of silence from his father.

All Potter did was smile a little. “Yeah, so I shouldn’t burden your house-elves or the cupboards of whatever room you want to put me in,” he said, and tilted his head at Theo as the door shut behind him with a noiseless thump. Potter didn’t even show uneasiness at the charms that controlled the doors depending on the will of the master of the house, something Theo thought remarkable. “Which room _did_ you want to put me in?”

“I’m going to let you choose your own, of course,” Theo said. “With the exception of the master suites, you can have any room in any wing.” Potter shrugged, and Theo let exasperation sharpen his voice. “Did you think you’d just have to do whatever I told you?”

“I thought you would do whatever was least inconvenient to you. Or maybe there are rules for this that I don’t know. I _am_ sort of imposing on you, after all.”

“You are not.” Theo, in fact, had felt more capable of moving around the house, taking an interest in what the house-elves made for dinner, and even reading the papers since Potter contacted him than he had been in months. “I invited you here by accepting your presence.”

Potter considered him and nodded slowly. “Anyway, that still doesn’t answer the question of where I’m going to sleep.”

Theo led the way up the spiral staircase, which honestly was the showiest thing in the house. He doubted Potter recognized that the marble of the steps came from a quarry Muggles thought had been played out centuries ago and that the banister was purest ebony, but it didn’t _need_ to be like that, or to be that big. Theo frowned at it, thinking it could stand to be different, equally luxurious but less ostentatious.

The trouble was, he hadn’t the slightest idea how to go about changing the appearance so that it conveyed that impression.

They arrived at the top, and Theo nodded at the entrance to the northern wing, a huge, ebony (of course) arched doorway that had rearing thestrals carved in it. “There are most of the guest bedrooms.”

“Thanks,” Potter said, and walked through it with the trunks floating behind him. Theo hesitated. He’d intended to go down and start giving the house-elves some orders about varying the menu so they could determine what food Potter liked.

Instead, he found himself following.

Potter considered silver and black oak doors, and shook his head and kept moving on. He halted in front of the door at the end of the corridor that was made of bright golden wood. He glanced over his shoulder at Theo, his eyebrows raised.

Theo swallowed. The house-elves had kept up the room, of course, and people had even stayed there when Father was still alive, he reminded himself. “You can go in there.”

Potter nodded and opened the door. Theo waited, shoulders higher than he liked, until he heard Potter’s sigh of satisfaction, and then crossed the threshold behind Potter for the first time in eleven years.

The walls were a soft and shining gold, to match the color of the door. Unlike most of the rooms in this wing, the floor was wood instead of stone, and decorated with deep, thick rugs in soft rose and amber colors, abstract designs that sometimes became flowers winding through them. The bed visible through a half-open door was surmounted with a delicate canopy like silken spiderwebs, and the bathroom’s door gave a glimpse of green. This particular room was a study, although the bookshelves were empty and the chair and desk had been replaced with spindly copies of what had once stood there.

“I like this,” Potter said, and walked over to stand in front of the huge window that ran between the doors of the bathroom and bedroom. The subdued, sparkling design of rose-colored winged horses melted and showed the view out over the house’s back gardens.

Theo heard Potter’s breath catch, and nodded. “These are the right rooms for you.”

It seemed Potter was more observant than Theo had dreamed, though, because he turned around with an intense, lingering stare. “Someone used to live here, didn’t they? Not your father.” It amused Theo a bit that Potter could have spent so little time in the house and still understood Father that well. “Do you want me to be here?”

“These rooms haven’t been used in a long time, and you fit in them,” Theo said. “Please, stay.”

After some more scanning of Theo’s face, Potter nodded slowly and walked over to the wardrobe against the wall facing the bathroom. Theo gave him one more look before he headed out to speak to the house-elves.

Potter had absolutely no reason to know that those rooms had belonged to Theo’s mother, and that that was the last place Theo had seen her.

*

“I hope dinner tempts your palate.”

Harry cocked an eyebrow at how formal and stuffy Nott sounded, but, well, he had revealed more through his expression and words earlier than he’d meant to, and perhaps he needed to step back a bit. The dining room was as huge as a cavern, lit by enormous glittering silver sconces that encircled the walls rather than the chandelier Harry had half-expected, and the dining room table was mahogany that had probably taken sixteen trees, although it was all made as one seamless, joined piece.

Nott took the head seat, a craggy black chair, out of what looked like pure habit, and then hesitated. Harry smiled and walked around to the seat on Nott’s left, ignoring the place setting for him at the foot. They’d have to exchange stuffy nods at _best_ down the length of the table if he sat there.

Nott blinked at him. The house-elves were more practical, though, since the place setting just disappeared and reappeared in front of Harry. Harry sat down and looped the napkin around his throat. Oh, wait, it felt as if it was made of silk, so it was probably a serviette.

“You wanted to sit closer to me?” Nott sounded as if he was exploring an unfamiliar idea.

“Sure. I don’t see the point in us shouting. Or not speaking at all, because you’re probably too dignified to shout.” Harry smiled at him as a bowl of soup appeared in front of him. The soup was unfamiliar, with small rose petals or what looked like them floating on the surface, and the bowl was china, but at least it smelled good. “Now. Do you prefer Theodore or Theo?”

Nott dropped his spoon back into the bowl, which luckily didn’t seem to crack the thin material. “What are you on about it? Why would we need to address each other by first names?”

“Oh, for the press? To keep up the idea that we’re friends and I’m going to reintroduce you to society because I’ve found that you’re a good person?” Harry leaned an elbow on the table, mostly for the sound of Nott’s horrified intake of breath, before he grinned and removed it. “I won’t call you by that in private if you don’t want me to, but I’ll have to in public.”

He swallowed several small spoonfuls of soup to Nott’s one before his voice said, almost inaudible, “I’m Theo to my friends.”

“That’s fine. You can call me Harry or Potter. I don’t mind either.”

“I— _how_ can you not mind that? Surely you wouldn’t want some stranger that accosted you on the street, or Rita Skeeter, calling you Harry?”

“No. But you’re going to be living with me, and I hope that we’ll at least be friends by the end of this.”

Nott watched him more than the food as the soup disappeared and the next course arrived, which was a stuffed bird of some kind that Harry frankly didn’t recognize. “Quail?” Harry asked, and Nott started and then nodded.

“Yes,” he murmured, and went back to eating himself. His eyes still flickered up and down between his plate and Harry, but honestly, Harry took that as an encouraging sign. He had the sense that Nott spent most of his meals looking at the food and nothing else.

Harry spent most of the meal discussing what kinds of invitations they should accept—Nott advised accepting most of the ones to galas, charity events, re-openings of shops that had closed during the war, and lavish events thrown by pure-bloods to show how sorry they were, and denied that he wanted to go to simple parties, balls, or festivals—and talking about how soon he should give an interview to the papers about his deepening friendship with Theodore Nott. They argued for ten minutes about whether it should be before or after their first public appearance together.

“Before,” Harry said firmly. “If it’s after, they might think our appearance together is fake.”

“I understand these things better than you do, Potter.” Nott had a much more dynamic face when he was bent forwards over the table and arguing about something than when he was sitting back in the chair like a lord on his throne. “We do the appearance first, so that we’ll seem as if we’ve finally brought something long-standing out into the open. Then the interview afterwards, so we can show that we’re deigning to give the masses some sort of explanation.”

Harry paused. “ _We_? I thought I would be doing the interviews alone.”

Passion flowed out of Nott’s face like water. “You can if you wish that, of course.”

 _Shit, I hate when he looks like that._ Harry shook his head vehemently. “No, I just meant that you’ve become a recluse for a reason, and I wouldn’t want you to have to go out in public if you aren’t comfortable with that.”

There was a pause long enough that Nott’s face froze, and Harry frowned. _Did I say something wrong? I don’t know what it is._

“Consider,” Nott said at last, “that if I’m willing to go to a gala with you, I’d be willing enough to speak in an interview. We could have the reporter come to Nott House, if we wanted.”

“True enough,” Harry said. “So. Which invitation is going to be first? I have three qualifying ones for this week alone.”

Nott paused. “Is one of them for the weekend?”

Harry didn’t have to think about it since he’d gone through the invitations just this morning, before he arrived. “Yeah. Saturday night, there’s one to celebrate the re-opening of Florean Fortescue’s. They’re going to gather at the shop first, and then everyone will be given the Apparition coordinates of a ‘more traditional venue.’”

Nott chopped his head down slightly. “I want until the weekend to be ready for this and make sure we have tailored robes.”

Harry smiled. “There’s that _we_ again. I have tailored robes, Nott. I got them when I attended those funerals after the war.” He blinked rapidly, and the torches stopped wavering.

Nott paused in the act of lifting a silver goblet to his lips. “Funeral robes are not the same as dress robes, Potter.”

“They looked the same as my Yule Ball robes to me, except the color.”

“Ball robes are not the same as the kind that you wear to an event where you won’t dance, either.” Nott looked a second away from pinching the bridge of his nose the way Professor McGonagall probably would. “Leave this up to me, please. I have more than enough money and no outlet for it. I’ll set up an appointment for you with my own tailor and he’ll have the robes ready by Saturday.”

“You trust the tailor not to talk?”

Nott’s smile was thin. “He’ll come here. That’s one thing the wards are good for, making sure that no one can cross the threshold with their memory completely intact unless I want them to.”

“Your father was seriously paranoid, wasn’t he?” Harry said, and then winced. He’d already seen that references to Nott’s father made him fall silent.

But this time, although Nott’s smile chilled out of existence, he said, “Not only him. Most of my other ancestors. I’m in control of what happens in the house, Potter. Don’t forget it.”

“So you want it to remain as dark as the inside of an anthill?”

“What?” Nott stared in a way that made Harry fairly certain no one had used that comparison before, although to him it just felt natural. “I—the black comes with the house, Potter. And you don’t have to get rid of it. I had the impression that your rooms were bright enough for you.”

“Yes, but I’d like to have some brightening elsewhere, too.” Harry put on the kind of cheerful, innocent smile that used to drive Hermione mental, since she had no idea if he meant it or not. “So, can I?”

“I…suppose.”

“Good.” Harry dug into the pudding in front of him, a tiramisu that had remained perfect even though it had been there throughout most of the argument. “Thank you,” he added to the air, and heard a house-elf squeak.

“You don’t need to thank them, Potter. House-elves don’t need that.”

Harry squinted at Nott. “You know, I wonder if that isn’t part of the harm that you’ve been doing to yourself?”

“What?”

“You’ve only taken what you _need_ to live. I can’t scold you for it. I went through a period of my life when I had to do pretty much the same thing. But now you’re free from a shadow that must have covered your whole life, and you have money and time enough to do whatever you want. And what are you doing? Hiding inside a dark house. I don’t think you were even coming up with plans for what you wanted to do, like I was.”

Nott shook his head slowly, staring at Harry like a serpent mesmerized by a charmer.

“So let me change things. If you hate the results, you can change them back. Or we can talk about it.” Harry finished his pudding and stood up, shaking his head as he glanced around the dining room. “But I can’t stay for long in a place like this.”

“Okay,” Nott whispered.

Harry grinned at him. He looked a little dazed, and Harry found that he liked the effect, especially because it seemed that the dark hair drawn back in a long tail to flow down Nott’s shoulders had begun to wisp free of the hold. _Maybe all the thinking he’s doing is setting up a kind of fire in his head,_ Harry thinks.

“We’ll talk about it more in the morning. Good night, Nott.”

“Call me Theo,” Nott said, so abruptly that Harry paused, not sure if he was saying it because he wanted to or not. “I mean…we ought to practice so that it sounds natural when you say it in public.”

Harry gentled his smile as he looked over his shoulder. He suspected it wasn’t about that at all, but far be it from him to discourage signs of the man coming out of his shell. “All right, Theo. I’ll see you in the morning. Sleep well.”

“I wish you pleasant dreams,” Theo whispered.

Harry waved to him and walked out of the dining room without looking back. At the moment, that would be too much, and he was pleased enough with what he had accomplished this evening.

*

Theo stood in his bedroom, looking over the gardens that stretched away from Nott House into a distance marked by the shimmer of magical barriers. The view was similar to the one from the window of the room Harry had chosen, but Theo’s part of the gardens was filled with much more frequent twisted, black copses of trees that almost looked fire-blasted.

Theo had been able to imagine, only two days ago, looking at this view until he died, without substantial changes.

Now…

Theo closed his eyes and swallowed. His father was dead, having committed suicide in his prison cell when he realized that nothing would persuade the Ministry to let him go before it was his time. And his mother had vanished when he was eight. Theo had never been certain what had happened to her.

To know that a wind of change had swept into Nott House, and it had been begun with something as simple as his curiosity about what Harry Potter was doing at his gates unaccompanied, rattled Theo like one of those trees in a storm. He could have refused. He could have turned away, and although he doubted Potter would have given up, it wouldn’t have been like this.

He breathed in slowly. When he exhaled, his allowed his lips to form the word he would have to wait some time to speak in front of the man it named.

“ _Harry_.”


	2. Chapter 2

“You don’t need to move as much, Mr. Potter, really,” the tailor muttered through a mouthful of pins. He had other things hovering in the air around him, including a tape measure, swatches of cloth, more pins, a sketch of robes that looked fancier than any Harry ever wanted to wear in his life, and what honestly looked like a map.

Harry sighed and fixed his attention out the French windows in front of him. They showed a more cheerful portion of the Nott gardens than Harry had seen yesterday. This stretch of trees had a few tentative white flowers that revealed them as apple trees, and the grass beneath them was thick and luxurious. Harry smiled a little as he watched a rabbit hop across the grass and sit up, glancing around as if it might want to live there.

Then a pin jabbed him again, and he flinched.

“Mr. Potter, what did I _say_ about moving?”

Harry glared down at the top of the tailor’s blond head. His name was Hercule Jardinier, and apparently he was the best tailor in wizardom, or something (Harry had let his attention drift when Theo was praising him at the breakfast table this morning). In Harry’s opinion, he was too fussy, and didn’t understand natural consequences like someone flinching when he poked them with a pin. Harry kept his response as chillingly polite as he could. “I only move when I need to.”

“You should be used to small pinpricks.” Jardinier sat back and frowned at him. The floating pins encircled his head like a spiky crown, and Harry bit his lip and then gazed intently through the windows again.

“Why would I? I’ve never had this done before.”

“Truly?” Theo asked from where he was suddenly standing in the corner of the room. An hour or an eternity ago he’d got bored and wandered out. “But your school robes fit you, Harry. You must have had them tailored.”

“Yes, but it took a few minutes, or half an hour at most.” Harry shifted and sighed as Jardinier started pinning yet another length of yet another mysterious fold of cloth. “I didn’t have to spend this much time at Madam Malkin’s.”

There was a long silence. Harry didn’t mind it. He thought Jardinier was probably concentrating and Theo disturbed at his lack of taste. He scanned the garden again to see if he could find the rabbit, but it appeared to have hopped out of sight.

“You never had tailored robes. You got your school robes from Madam Malkin’s.” Theo was speaking extremely slowly, as if assuming he had to get these facts right on an exam.

“Yes. You might have heard of it. Small place, in Diagon Alley, but even Malfoy went there for the school robes—”

“The first time, that might have been true,” Theo interrupted. He took a step forwards, and Harry glanced at him. Theo was frowning in a way that went with the black house rather than worked against it, the way most of his expressions did. “But I assure you that he also got most of his robes tailored after that, and Madam Malkin would have been working with measurements that he brought from elsewhere.”

“Fine, then she was.” Harry held in his flinch as Jardinier poked him again, and this time won a small grunt of approval. “What does it matter? So this is my first pair of tailored robes.”

“But you could have afforded them before this.”

“But they just didn’t matter to me as much.” Harry held Theo’s eyes and spoke quietly. He was willing to put up with this nonsense and this imposition on Theo because it would make their public appearance more convincing, but he didn’t want Theo to mistake what kind of person he was. “They just don’t.”

Theo gave him a frustrated look. “So you appeared as rumpled as you did during our school years because _that_ was a choice?”

Harry snorted. “Part of that was my hair. Nothing to be done about it, and I really wasn’t going to spend time experimenting. People can put up with a bit of ruffling.”

“I meant your clothes. Did you wear them that raggedly on purpose?”

Harry met Theo’s eyes. He might have been willing to talk about it if they were truly in private, but with Jardinier there, he was not. “That was my choice. If you don’t want me to appear next to you in public in anything but tailored robes, that’s fine. But we’re not going to discuss my past clothing choices.”

Theo paused for a long time. Harry gave another glance down at the dress robes. He supposed they were proceeding fine, but he honestly didn’t really like the dark blue color Theo had chosen. He’d gone along with it because he couldn’t see the difference between the robes he’d worn to the Yule Ball and the robes in the illustrations the tailor had brought to show him.

The color didn’t seem like it would flatter him, though, and it would be fussy. Oh, well. Harry shrugged, and at the last moment, restricted himself to a small ripple that didn’t disturb Jardinier.

“Good, you’re learning,” Harry thought he heard Jardinier mutter, but Theo was speaking again, and Harry would rather listen to him.

“Will you let me gift you with other robes?”

“I suppose that it would be a faux pas to wear the same robes to another function that we go to together?”

“At the very least, before three or more months have passed.” Theo was smiling a little more freely now, a shadow Harry hadn’t realized was there bleeding off his face.

“That’s fine.” Harry spread his arms when he was told to, and only hoped that the final result of all this would be worth it.

Theo was watching intently, but he seemed to do everything intently, so Harry didn’t know how much he could read into that. At least it would probably prevent the robes from being a mess, and that was the only thing Harry cared about—and even then, only because Theo was spending so much money on these damn things.

*

Harry looked stunning when he came down the stairs in the dress robes that they would wear to the re-opening of Florean Fortescue’s shop.

Really, they were blue-green, although the royal blue was the color that showed most often and the green was most visible as the light of torches rippled over the cloth. Theo had chosen it because it was a combination that would bring out both Harry’s eyes and the blue-black shades visible in his dark hair when he turned his head. And because it would slide over Harry’s skin in a luxurious way that he should have been experiencing long since.

The problem was, Theo didn’t know whose choice that had been, something to do with the Muggles Harry had lived with, or Harry’s own modesty, or even the necessities of war. He wouldn’t press it for now. He was only relived that Harry had agreed to let Theo summon his personal tailor and pay for the robes.

Theo himself was wearing his own black robes with silver accents that were the Nott colors. Harry was studying him critically as he reached the bottom of the stairs. Theo automatically extended his hand, and Harry looked at it blankly.

“What?”

 _Of course, he didn’t grow up like this._ Theo smiled and said, “Hold out your arm. Then I can hold it as we walk out the doors. We can appear like that in front of the public, too. It’s not a hard position to maintain while Apparating.”

Harry’s head tilted in response, but he held out his elbow. Theo tucked his hand in the corner of it, and sighed a little. He’d been doing a lot of thinking in the past few days, but he wasn’t surprised at the feeling of rightness that settled into his bones.

“Someone might think we’re a couple if we do this.”

“And would that bother you?”

“Not me.” Harry was giving him the critical look again. “But you’re still wearing those traditional robes, even though they make you look like a ghost. I assumed this would be a very ‘traditional’ evening. You might not want the assumptions other people are going to make if they see you come in on my arm.”

“Technically, this position is _you_ coming in on _my_ arm,” Theo responded, adjusting his hold a little so that was more true, but his mind was mostly lingering on what Harry had said. “I’ve been told by many people that these robes flatter me.”

“And are they people who would have a reason to be honest with you?”

Theo thought about that while they headed for the front door, and a few house-elves, notably Peony and Jessie, who were irrepressible, peered at them around the corners. Father would have thought the House colors were flattering on him no matter what. Most of the people who had seen him in dress robes in Slytherin had wanted to stay on his good side.

And Mother…

Theo turned his thoughts away from that, and simply inclined his head to Harry. “Maybe not? What would you suggest I wear? I thought from your impatience with getting fitted the other day that you don’t have much experience with this kind of thing.”

“I don’t, and I don’t pretend that I would know the best color straight off, but I’d like to see you in blue. That would make your skin appear a little less pale, and you could still get a dark blue like this one I’m wearing to make you appear dark if you wanted to.”

Theo smiled a bit. “The robes you wear are blue-green. The color is sold as aquamarine by the company Jardinier works for.”

“Okay,” Harry said. “By the way, I did a bit of redecorating in the wing upstairs. Just the corridor around my rooms, so far. It was getting depressing to walk through what looked like the Forbidden Forest every day just to come down to meals.”

Theo narrowed his eyes. “You didn’t say anything about that to me.”

“What was that bit about controlling everything that happens in the house? I assumed you could change it back in an instant if you didn’t like it.”

Theo considered that, and also that he hadn’t seen it so far, and he had no idea if he would like it or not. “Fine. Then I’ll look at it in the morning.”

“Not after we come back tonight?” Harry smiled at him a little as they walked through the gates and into the zone around them where the anti-Apparition wards didn’t extend.

“I assume that this celebration will last until late at night. And I didn’t know how accustomed you were to such hours.”

Harry rolled his eyes at him, and then turned and Apparated them both without a pause. Theo startled slightly as they came out of it, partially because it was smoother than he probably could have managed, and because he had assumed without thinking that he would be doing it. The wizard who took the position of escorting the other usually did.

“I can do that when we move on to our next destination,” he murmured into Harry’s ear as they joined the small crowd of witches and wizards around the newly-built, shining stone building that encompassed the former ruin of Fortescue’s shop. They were attracting attention already. Theo ground his teeth against the sensation of everyone _staring_ at him. He could do this.

“If you want,” Harry said, and smiled dazzlingly at the people who gaped at him.

Theo put up his chin and pulled the cloak of his indifference around him. It was a tactic that he had first learned at Father’s knee, but really, it was easier now than it had ever been.

 _He_ was the one clad in seamlessly fine robes, with a handsome, powerful wizard at his side who wanted to be there. Not everyone could see the same; Theo’s expert eye picked out more than one example of inferior tailoring, not to mention the arranged spouses who stood a careful distance from each other and some wizards who had been paid to be here by less than handsome companions.

He fully intended to show everyone how much he deserved this.

And if that meant convincing Harry that he deserved more of the man’s company beyond this initial attempt to launch him into society again, then he would do that as well.

*

“But really, Mr. Potter. Mr. _Nott_?”

Harry concealed a sigh as he turned around with the glass of cold lemonade in his hand. Theo had said something about getting that for him, but he’d been mobbed by former Slytherins who all wanted to do their own version of impolite gaping. Harry had caught Theo’s eye once, and the almost subliminal nod he’d sent, before he had decided to leave him alone.

The “more traditional venue” they’d been told about after they’d arrived at Fortescue’s re-opened shop had turned out to be a ballroom on a floor of the Ministry that Harry had never visited before. At least no one seemed to expect dancing. The gold decorations were a bit much, but did give Harry some interesting ideas for what he might want to do in Nott House. The tables along the walls that held drinks and food were much more intriguing than the majority of the conversations.

Now, though, he had to deal with Rita Skeeter, who had been invited to add “luster” to the event. “Why not Mr. Nott with me?”

“So you call him that? What an _interesting_ relationship the two of you have.”

“I was matching your level of formality,” Harry said, and saw Skeeter’s eyes glitter behind her glasses. _Interesting that she no longer seems as formidable as she did now that I’m grown up._ “Of course I call him Theo in private.”

“And what _else_ do you do in private?” Skeeter purred. She didn’t have a quill in hand, and her dress had short enough sleeves that Harry didn’t think she was hiding one nearby, but her voice was familiar.

“Surely you don’t expect Harry to answer that in public.”

Harry smiled up at Theo as he abruptly stepped around Skeeter and towards Harry, his arm extended. This time, Harry knew what he was supposed to do, and let his hand rest in what he thought was probably a more traditional position.

“Would you like something to eat?” Theo asked, sounding as calm as though he did this every day. Harry hoped he was the only one who saw how tense Theo’s shoulders were, and how hard he had to work to keep his eyes from going to Skeeter’s face. “I noticed that you were looking at the stuffed shrimp earlier.”

Harry blinked. Yes, he had. “Thanks, but I can reach it, Theo.”

Theo eyed him sideways, and Harry restrained a snort. Fine. This was probably one of those pure-blood things, too, and although he was curious why Theo wanted others to assume they were a couple instead of friends, he would still let Theo get it for him. Or maybe it was even a custom among pure-blood friends to get food for each other once someone had offered.

Skeeter simpered as Theo leaned over to get a plate and then fetched some of the stuffed shrimp with a flick of his wand, but without moving his arm from underneath Harry’s resting hand. “Could it be that you are embracing a _traditional_ way of life at last, Mr. Potter?”

Harry gave her a smile she could take any way she wanted. Judging by how she blinked, she took it in a strange way. “I think that nothing I do will ever be traditional, no matter what it is. Thanks, Theo,” he added, as Theo conjured a little floating tray that he could put both the plate of shrimp and the glass of lemonade on.

Theo smiled and steered him back out into the crowd. Only a few pure-bloods came up to them, and of them, Harry only recognized two Slytherins from their year at Hogwarts. One was Draco Malfoy, who looked back and forth between them and then said, “Be cautious,” which could have been addressed to either of them, really. Then he offered Theo a half-bow and walked away.

The other was Millicent Bulstrode, who tapped Theo on the shoulder with the tip of the pointed hat she was holding in her hand. “I wondered when you would finally give up on what your basted of a father taught you,” she said. “Good on you, Theo.”

“My grandparents were married, thank you.”

“Stop being literal, it doesn’t suit you,” Bulstrode snapped back, and then raised an eyebrow at Harry. “On the other hand, being on Theo’s arm suits _you_. I might have asked you to this event myself if I knew that you’d be willing to be seen with a Slytherin.”

“He’s with _me_.”

Harry glanced at Theo. He had no idea how serious the churning undercurrents in the air between him and Bulstrode were, but it did worry him. This plot would backfire if it turned out that Theo was somehow getting himself exiled from the social scene with his reaction.

“I can see that,” Bulstrode said. “I repeat: don’t be so literal.” She winked at Harry as she turned away and jammed her hat back on her hair, or Harry was almost certain she did. He shook his head in wonder.

“Harry? Is something wrong? Is the food not to your taste?”

Harry grinned at Theo. “No, it’s fine. I just never realized that Millicent Bulstrode had a sense of humor or any situational awareness.” He bit again into the shrimp, sighing. It was stuffed with what he thought was crab meat, and drizzled with some kind of coconut sauce that melted deliciously down his tongue.

“Yes.” Theo’s arm was definitely more relaxed now against his than it had been a moment ago. “She can have those things, when she wants. Of course, most of the time in Slytherin, she pretended she didn’t.”

“Why?”

“To fool people into thinking that their initial assessment of her as having no more brains than Marcus Flint was correct.”

“I would ask why, but it would probably be some kind of convoluted Slytherin reason that I wouldn’t understand.” Harry let Theo see him rolling his eyes, but Theo only smiled back. There was a softness to the gesture that made Harry clear his throat and turn away. “Let’s see if we can find someone who would be willing to—”

“Harry. You’re—here?”

Harry turned and grinned as he saw Hermione staring at them. She wore periwinkle dress robes that made Harry sigh to himself; they were in the same style as the ones that Theo had ordered for him. Okay, apparently there _was_ a difference between the kinds of robes that you would wear to an event like the Yule Ball and to one like this. She darted a glance at Theo, and then a demand for an explanation at Harry.

“Hermione,” Harry said, and felt Theo stiffen at his side. Had he really not recognized her, or did he think Harry would abandon him to go off with his friend? Harry pressed reassuringly back against his arm just in case it was the second one, and shifted the floating tray to one hand. “Come here. I haven’t seen you in weeks.”

“Well, yes, getting ready for NEWTS and studying the rules governing the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures is…” Hermione trailed off, and then came across to shake his hand and give a suspicious look at Theo. “But Ron didn’t tell me you’d got involved in anything like _this_.”

“I thought it was time to give someone who probably wanted it a chance to rejoin society.”

“By dressing yourself up like this and coming _with_ him?” Hermione was staring at the way Harry was leaning against Theo’s arm.

“Technically, he dressed me up,” Harry said mildly. “But yes. Why not?”

“You must know what everybody is saying about you,” Hermione said, and Harry admired the effort of will it took her to keep her eyes fixed on his face instead of touching on someone who was whispering obnoxiously loudly behind their hand.

“Yes. And I don’t mind.” Harry turned his smile on Theo. “I would mind if Theo did. But I don’t think he does.”

He paused when he saw Theo’s expression, wondering for a moment if he’d misjudged. That didn’t look like ease with the situation. But then he made out the brilliance in Theo’s eyes, and relaxed.

Theo might not know if he was amused or not, but he was at least enjoying himself. And he didn’t mind being mistaken for Harry’s boyfriend, or patron, or partner, or whatever was going through some people’s heads.

“If you’re sure that you wanted to do this, Harry,” Hermione said, and then hesitated. Harry waited. It wasn’t like Hermione to struggle with words. Hermione finally went on, more slowly, “You—could have found someone else who could use your help.”

All of Theo’s muscles clenched as if he was about to hurl himself away from Harry. It was impressive that not a thing showed on the surface of his body. Harry only raised his eyebrows and said, “Maybe. But I choose to be here.”

Theo relaxed again, muscle by muscle. He still said nothing. Probably he thought this was a private discussion between friends. And in a way, it was, Harry thought, his eyes drilling into Hermione. She might not understand why Harry was here, and in truth, it had started as kind of a lark and more like chance. But that didn’t matter. Harry was here now, and he wasn’t leaving. Hermione had to accept that and not comment on it.

Hermione got it in a second. Her cheeks flushed, and she said, “Of course you are. I’ll talk to you later, Harry. Nott.” She nodded to Theo and then turned and bustled away into the clusters of witches and wizards around them, her chin up.

“Well, that was—uncomfortable,” Theo said, pausing as if he had tried to choose a different word and couldn’t.

“I’m sorry for that,” Harry said, rolling his eyes a little. “Maybe I should have written her an owl with more detail, but honestly, this week’s been so busy with planning things and talking about what invitations we’re going to accept and picking out that reporter that I just forgot. And I thought Ron would tell her.”

Theo moved slowly back towards the table of food, picking up a small sandwich that Harry thought had cucumber on it. “I meant, uncomfortable for you.”

Harry shook his head. “Hermione and Ron and I have been through plenty of other things. Defeating a troll was a lot more uncomfortable with this.”

“Defeating a troll? I thought…Are you talking about that rumor from first year? Do you mean that it wasn’t a rumor?”

“No, it wasn’t. Ron had said something stupid to Hermione earlier that day, and so she was hiding in a girl’s bathroom and didn’t even hear the notice that the troll was loose in the castle because she wasn’t at the Feast. So Ron and I went to find her.”

Harry told the story in a few sentences, but Theo kept listening and asking questions, and more questions, and more questions, and Harry decided he could keep talking. He didn’t know what was so fascinating about this, or about the story of the basilisk in second year that Theo coaxed him to tell next. Theo didn’t make a lot of remarks about how terrible or amazing it was or anything like that. He just made sure that he was never very far away from Harry as the night went on, and that their arms stayed pressed close together.

Which Harry didn’t mind. At one point he caught a camera flash going off from the corner of his eye, and smiled a little. That was what they’d come here to do, after all.

The smile wasn’t hard to keep on his face, even when Theo insisted on picking out more food from him than Harry would have eaten by himself, and keeping him “refreshed” with water and lemonade, and—this was a bit excessive—followed him to the bathroom and stood outside while Harry used the loo. If they could persuade people that Theo had the full friendship and trust of Harry Potter, that would just make the deception more convincing.

The part about friendship and trust wasn’t even a deception, Harry thought as he rejoined Theo from the bathroom and saw the way that Theo’s eyes snagged on him and a small smile curved his lips.

The reason for why it had started, maybe. But the results? No.

*

Theo stared around at the corridor that led into the north wing. He’d come up to retrieve Harry for breakfast himself this morning, not wanting the house-elves to do it after the night they’d shared. But the change was so great that it had startled him into stillness the moment he passed through the thestral-carved arch.

The carvings in the wing, mostly more thestrals and a few dragons and serpents, were still in place. But Harry had made everything shades lighter, so that the silver doors were now a glinting ivory and the black ones a grey that Theo remembered seeing on some of the house decorations in his grandfather’s portrait.

But the walls were the greatest difference. The blackness was instead a melding of subtle shades that made Theo think he could have been standing outdoors at dawn. Grey, fugitive gold, and translucent rose mingled together to make it look as if this really was the wing that had once housed his mother’s rooms.

“Do you like it?”

Theo glanced up. Harry had halted just outside his own door, his eyebrows raised. He was wearing a patched grey shirt and Muggle trousers too large for him, which made Theo glare at him in baffled offense. He _knew_ Harry had ordinary robes, or, barring that, Muggle clothes that fit him. Why did he insist on walking around in that rubbish?

“You don’t.”

Harry’s voice had sunken a little, but he hadn’t retreated. Instead, he was giving Theo the same sort of critical look he had given him when he’d told Theo that black robes didn’t suit him. Theo felt a burst of light in his chest. Harry didn’t retreat, didn’t back down.

And sometimes Theo thought he had spent his own life doing nothing else.

“No, I think it’s fine, Harry. I just wondered why you wear clothes like that when you can wear literally anything.”

Harry looked at his own arm and his ragged sleeve, and shrugged. “I suppose it doesn’t occur to me to spend money on clothes. There were lots of years I couldn’t, and then most of the time these particular clothes were under robes. It’s not something that’s as important to me. Don’t worry, though,” he added, perhaps because he’d seen Theo’s face darkening. “I’ll still let you dress me when we have to go out somewhere, and even use that arse Jardinier, if you insist.”

“I will insist,” Theo said, hearing his voice roughen. “And what do you mean you couldn’t spend money on clothes?”

“I lived in the Muggle world. I didn’t know that I had an account at Gringotts, or money.” Harry paused, probably because he saw the lights moving and working in Theo’s eyes, and added, “I didn’t know I was a wizard until I was eleven, Theo.”

“What?” Theo asked helplessly. He had wondered about some of the things that Harry didn’t seem to know, but now that he considered it, and the way that Harry must have had only seven years to really learn them, what surprised him was how _well_ Harry had adapted.

“Yeah.” Harry shrugged as if it didn’t matter, and flashed him that smile that disordered Theo’s mind just by existing. “Anyway. What I did to the walls and doors was mostly a few Color-Changing Charms backed by Adjustment Charms when the first ones didn’t come out looking the way I wanted.”

“But—the wards on the House are strong enough that I should have felt that. And no mere Color-Changing Charm could do something like _that_.” Theo nodded to the dawn-shaded walls.

Harry flushed a little. “I did feel some resistance when I was casting them. I struggled through it and went on. That was probably the wards trying to hold me back. But you said you liked it, so.”

Theo was glad he was looking more at the walls than Harry, because it probably kept him from flashing Harry a completely inappropriate expression of bewilderment. Harry had simply _powered through_ the Nott wards?

He was probably far stronger than he could have any way of knowing. Especially now that Theo knew how little time Harry had spent in the world that should always have been his by rights.

“I do like it,” Theo said quietly, and turned back to Harry. “And in the meantime, allow me to lend you some robes for the interview, simply so that the interviewer doesn’t draw any incorrect conclusions.” Such as the one that Theodore Nott didn’t know how to take care of his guests, or how to provide for someone who had willingly chosen to be at his side.

Harry snorted. “Then _allow_ me to perform some Color-Changing Charms on them, too. Like hell am I going to wear black.”

“You would look magnificent in them.”

Harry’s eyes widened, and Theo flushed himself as he realized how unhesitatingly he’d spoken the words. But he didn’t take them back. He maintained the connection of their gazes, and Harry was the one who said, “Thank you.”

Theo Summoned the robes, and watched as Harry changed them to the same flowing, blue-green color as the robes he’d worn to the opening of Florean Fortescue’s shop. He watched, although his pulse was making his throat throb, as Harry draped them over his body. Then he held out his arm again.

Harry watched him without moving. “No one is here right now to see this, Theo.”

“Does that mean that you’re choosing to step back?”

Theo would have worded that differently if he’d had time to think; it was too vulnerable and too demanding at the same time. But Harry replied without any sign that he thought it so. “No. Only that I wanted to make sure you were choosing it, and not falling into this way of doing it unthinkingly.” He moved forwards, let his hand rest on Theo’s arm in the right position, and turned towards the staircase.

Theo felt the weight of that hand as they paced down the steps, and breathed out slowly. He would give a great deal to have it stay right there.

He would give a great deal to be worthy of it.

*

Harry smiled slightly at Hortensia Lacerobe, the young reporter he and Theo had invited to the House to interview them. She was a dark-haired, wide-eyed woman who hadn’t stopped looking back and forth between him and Theo since Peony the house-elf had led her into the dining room. At least she appeared competent enough to write down what they said and not goggle at them uselessly.

Theo had chosen her because of a favor that she apparently owed his father. At least that probably meant she wouldn’t exaggerate or outright lie, the way most _Prophet_ stories about Harry did.

“I just—it all seems so sudden.” Lacerobe fanned herself for a second with her sleeve, and then jumped a little as a glass of ice water appeared next to her, courtesy of the house-elves. She nodded and took a drink of it. “Thank you. The last anyone knew of either of you, Mr. Nott, you were a confirmed recluse, and you had taken a few months off to think about what you wanted to do, Mr. Potter.”

“What I want to do is make sure that there’s never another war.” Harry’s voice was firm. “That was how I first got to know Theo.” He squeezed Theo’s hand without looking up at him, because he honestly wasn’t sure what expression would be on Theo’s face, and wanted to give him a chance to compose himself. “I thought he must be guilty because his father was. If nothing else, this is a good way to let myself challenge my own biases and mistaken perceptions.”

“And I had the same mistaken perceptions where they concerned Harry.” Theo leaned forwards a little. He was sitting in a chair next to Harry’s; both of them were made of some hard, slick, green material that rather reminded Harry of the basilisk’s scales. “As you may know, there is a rivalry in Hogwarts between Slytherins and Gryffindors. I never got to see Harry whole during his Hogwarts years. And then I admit that, after the war, I thought of him as a hero too busy saving the whole world to connect with anyone on the personal level.”

Theo’s hand nudged him. Harry obediently looked up, and flushed at the sight of Theo’s brilliant smile. Well, that would make a good picture like the one that Lacerobe was even now taking.

“But I was wrong,” Theo breathed. “Harry is a good friend. He has moved more and more strongly in _one_ direction in particular since he first visited me.”

“And when was that visit?”

“Some time ago,” Theo said dismissively, in the kind of tone that made Lacerobe look awed and not ask anymore. And technically, it wasn’t even a lie, Harry mused, through the frozen moment that was consuming him right now.

_Moving more and more strongly in one direction in particular._

That would only suggest one interpretation to Lacerobe and most of her readers. It wasn’t one Harry minded encouraging; he had even thought it was funny. And he could see why Theo would like it. It would make him seem even more rehabilitated to pure-blood society and the Ministry if he was _dating_ Harry Potter.

Harry just hadn’t expected to see honesty in Theo’s face instead of the shared invitation to laugh at everyone being so gullible.

Harry sat up and smiled back, and then turned to Lacerobe. “Yes. That direction is definitely the one I intend.”

Theo tensed up again next to Harry the way he had at the Fortescue event. Harry nudged him in the ribs with an elbow. Theo exhaled low and hard, and they got through the rest of the interview in what sounded like normal tones.

Theo sent an elf to see Lacerobe out, and turned to him at once. “Did you mean it?”

“Yes,” Harry said.

“You—you just leaped into this, though. The way—”

“The way I showed up at your gates. Yes.” Harry shrugged and grinned at him. “That’s the way I am. Sometimes I leap and then find myself falling, and other times I fly. At the moment, what I said to Hermione is still true.” He saw the question in Theo’s eyes, and answered it. “I’m exactly where I want to be. Where I _chose_ to be.”

Theo slowly lifted Harry’s hand in his, giving him plenty of time to back away. Harry went on gazing calmly at him, although he had to admit shuddering a little when Theo’s lips brushed his knuckles.

_I choose this. I choose to see where this road leads._


	3. Chapter 3

“What do you think of this?”

Theo stood carefully back from the table as Harry spun his wand in his hand. Of course he trusted Harry, but after knowing the kind of power it would have taken to force the Color-Changing Charm past the Nott wards, he didn’t think anyone could blame him for being a bit wary when Harry was about to change the color of the dining room.

Oddly, Theo felt no pressure on those wards. Harry’s magic spread out and away from him in what seemed to be the ordinary charm, although perhaps moving more slowly than usual. Then it landed, and the room wavered and snapped into being around him.

And _what_ a room!

Theo swallowed as he tilted his head back to look up at the walls. The blackness had faded to the soft kind of grey that Harry had used on the doors in the northern wing, except on the upper walls, where there were long tendrils of darkness cutting through the shadowy color. It was an intriguing effect and not one Theo would have thought up.

But more than that, the silver sconces around the walls now glittered as though they’d been giving a good polishing, and circles of gold, like sunbursts, surrounded them on the wall, seeming to extend their light.

“How did you do that?” Theo asked. “Polish the sconces and change the color of the walls at the same time?”

Harry shrugged. “I pictured what I wanted and that’s what happened. What? Is that another thing that shouldn’t have been possible with the Nott wards?”

“No, it just—a polishing spell should have been separate from the Color-Changing Charm, that’s all.” Theo walked slowly towards Harry, now that he seemed to be done for the moment. He touched Harry’s forehead, feeling the lack of sweat, and looked into his eyes. Perhaps they were a touch brighter than before, but that didn’t mean it was the exertion.

“What?” And now Harry’s eyes seemed to be brighter from mischief.

“Most people can’t simply combine two spells like that. Or will something to happen and have their magic enact their will, _especially_ when pressing against wards as strong as the ones that constrict the House.” Theo’s hand slid down Harry’s neck. Harry let his eyelids fall a little, but didn’t look away from Theo. “Do you have the slightest notion of how remarkable you are?”

“Other people have done remarkable things, too. I was the one who defeated Voldemort, but that didn’t mean someone else couldn’t have—”

“I didn’t mean anything about your ‘hero’ status.” Frankly, Theo found discussing it distasteful. That status had forced Harry to be in danger again and again, and it had obviously made it hard for Harry to trust offers of friendship from other people. “I mean that most wizards simply are not that _powerful_.”

“Intimidated, Theo? Do you want me to leave?”

“Never.”

The moment simmered between them, bright as heat lightning. Harry was the one who lowered his eyes first, swallowing a little. For a moment, his cheeks blazed, and Theo cupped one to feel the warmth. Then Harry cleared his throat. “Well, I personally think that other people could do some of the things I could, but they don’t try. So they never know for sure if they could actually achieve them.”

“You don’t have to do everything. Leave me some things that I can do _for_ you.”

“I’m planning to do that,” Harry agreed, with a faint, amused smile, and a touch to Theo’s cheek. “But in the meantime, we should eat. You told me that we have a long day ahead of us.”

“Given that we’ll be going to some of the furniture shops in Diagon Alley, I’d say that,” Theo agreed, and enjoyed watching the way that Harry paused for a second before he moved to join Theo at the dining table.

“Furniture? Why? I’m sure that I have everything I might need in my rooms.”

“Yes, but the other ones in that wing are going to need new chairs and the like to match the décor changes.”

Harry sat. “I would say that I’m sorry for not having considered that before I made the choices, but I assume that you’re not actually sad about having to spend the money.” He thanked Peony as she brought him a bowl of porridge drizzled with cinnamon and raisins, and Peony stared up at him with dazzled eyes before popping out again. Theo smiled and sipped at his tea. His own eggs would come a little later.

“My father was a bastard who was always telling me exactly how much money I could spend when he was alive. If anything, it’s going to feel good to spite him by doing this.”

“What was he like?” Harry swallowed two spoonfuls of porridge before he seemed to notice Theo wasn’t talking, and added, “Only if you want to tell me, of course.”

“Talking about my father is strange.” Theo stared at his plate, where the eggs had appeared, scrambled as he preferred them and had been able to have them since his father died. “Either everyone knew him already and I never needed to say anything, or they didn’t, and I was left no opportunity to explain.”

“You can say as much or as little as you want. I won’t be offended.”

Theo nodded slowly, and ate a few bites of his eggs while he thought about it, finally musing, “He was like a mountain. He dominated everything about my life. He was the one who told me what I could learn, what classes I should take at Hogwarts, what books I could read out of the library, and how I should dress and eat and interact with the house-elves. For years there were no surprises. I knew everything years in advance and how it was supposed to happen.”

“His death must have hit you hard, then.”

“The unexpected happened before that,” Theo blurted, not having meant to say that, and Harry’s eyes locked on him. “I mean—I never thought he would be captured while he was fighting next to Voldemort in the Battle of Hogwarts. I mean, not _really_. I never thought Voldemort could _lose_.”

Harry nodded. “I don’t think there were many people who did.”

Theo looked away, not wanting to be reminded how there were some people who had kept faith with Harry, and he hadn’t. Harry spoke before he could decide what he wanted to say. “I understand exactly why you didn’t. And anyway, you were telling me about what happened when your father died, right.”

“Right.” Theo sighed and rolled his shoulders. It was odd to realize he hadn’t kept his posture perfectly straight since the afternoon Harry had decided to show up at his gates. “Suddenly I was free, but I didn’t feel like it. I went right on wearing the same robes my father had told me I had to and keeping to the same routine. That was the main reason I didn’t venture out to pure-blood events or answer Ministry owls, you know. I didn’t know how. During the summers, Father kept me confined to Nott House unless he decided to make a social call and took me with him. I—didn’t know who I was without him.”

“You’re Theo.”

Harry swallowed porridge as Theo glanced back at him, and his smile was warm and encouraging. “I know it probably sounds strange, but that’s the man I’m learning to know and be friends with. And you want to go furniture-shopping in Diagon Alley. That’s something your father never did with you, is it?”

Swallowing, Theo shook his head. He couldn’t take his eyes from Harry’s shining ones.

“Then we’re already starting to show how you can be different,” Harry said firmly. “Which shops were you thinking of?”

*

“I don’t think we should buy that,” Harry said, giving the couch a dubious look. The entire thing seemed to be made of black lacquer. Harry couldn’t imagine that it would be comfortable to sit on. It seemed to be more the sort of thing that Voldemort would lounge on at the forefront of a Death Eater meeting.

“Harry, I have a truly stupid amount of money.” Theo folded his arms and glanced down as though still startled to see the swish of dark blue robes around his body instead of just dark ones. Harry grinned at him.

“I’m not opposed to buying that because it’s expensive. I’m opposed to buying it because it’s _black_. We need brighter colors for those rooms, and you have enough black furniture at Nott House.”

“If perhaps the sirs would care to look at something else?” The woman attending to them was a witch so quiet that Harry had actually overlooked her when they walked into the shop, something he wasn’t used to having happen. Her hair was sleek and pale, wrapped up in an elaborate chignon with (ebony) combs on her head, and she had (black) rings on only two fingers and (black) robes that were probably made of Nundu fur or something. She had introduced herself as Madam June Marlayne, owner of Marlayne’s Marvels. “Perhaps this?”

She turned and waved her wand, and a (black) cloth slid off something it had been covering until then. Harry heard Theo’s breath catch. That had already decided him on buying it even before he turned all the way around.

He approved the color at once. It was a thick blue couch that looked as though you could sit on it and go on sinking into the cushions like you would into a lake. Harry didn’t know for sure what material it was made of.

What mattered was the look in Theo’s eyes.

But probably Madam Marlayne would think it gauche not to bargain or something, so Harry strolled over to the couch slowly and considered it. “What do you think, Theo?” he asked over his shoulder. “That sitting room with the two black chairs? Or should we stick to outfitting the northern wing for today?” He did see Madam Marlayne bow her head, hiding a quick smile, probably because she hadn’t realized how much more they might buy.

“The sitting room, actually,” Theo said, his voice gaining strength. “We’ll do three rooms in the northern wing, but also find enough furniture to replace those black chairs that so offend you, love.”

Harry choked at the name, and he saw Madam Marlayne stiffen. Theo turned slowly towards him. Harry saw the truth in his face.

He had deliberately used that term in front of someone else. It hadn’t been unthinking, and it hadn’t been part of the deception. How Harry reacted was what mattered to Theo, not Madam Marlayne.

Harry smiled and inclined his head in a tiny nod. “I’d like that,” he said, and saw Theo’s eyes close in a slow blink as he took in both the meanings.

Of course, then Madam Marlayne began to bustle, arranging to use cloth to wrap the couch again and show them other pieces, but there had been another simmering moment like the one last night when Theo had kissed his hand. Harry marveled that it felt as if they had been alone and the moment had belonged to them, in spite of everything.

He had never felt this strong a connection. He had certainly never thought he would when he strolled up to Nott House’s gates on a whim.

But it was here now, and Harry hoped it wasn’t leaving any more than he was.

*

Theo stared down in silence at the letter from the Ministry. Before this, he had simply used the wards of the house to rip the letters from the owls, incinerate the parchment, and release the birds unharmed. But his preoccupation with Harry—or perhaps his slowly-growing belief that he didn’t need to be exactly like his father—had relaxed his control of the wards and let this one through.

The letter said, _We must talk to you at your earliest convenience about the circumstances surrounding the death of your late unlamented father, Theron Nott._

“Theo? Are you all right?”

 _Remember, someone is here now to help you,_ Theo thought, and he couldn’t even chide himself for the weakness in the thought, the way he knew his father would have. He turned around and extended the owl before he thought. “This came from the Ministry.”

Harry’s eyes narrowed the moment he began reading. “There’s no reason to use that kind of wording,” he said, and Theo blinked. The crackle of magic that had begun to surround Harry made the air around him thick and bright, and hard to breathe. That was rage, of course, but Theo had never expected to see it used on his behalf.

_Why wouldn’t it be? You’ve seen what he’s like with his friends, and you’re one of his friends now._

Theo swallowed back the realization, and said, “What would you do? Do I have to answer this—summons?”

“Of course not,” said Harry. “It doesn’t actually say you have to, does it? Just that they want to talk to you. And it doesn’t clarify what about, so you don’t even know if it’s important. And they say ‘at your earliest convenience.’” He looked up at Theo, grinned, and then shredded the paper with magic, not even using a wand; the tatters fell through his fingers a second later. “What if that isn’t until later?”

Theo found himself huffing out a laugh. “You persuade me to get away with so many things that I wouldn’t have when my father was alive.”

“I wish I had been here for you then. So he couldn’t bully you.”

Theo nodded slowly and said, “I wish you’d been, too. But I don’t want you to regret it. I—am more than content with what we have at the moment.”

Harry smiled, skidded his fingers lightly along Theo’s hand, and then looked around the room they were standing in, the one where Theo had first confronted Harry last week. “Let’s see what else we need to add to make this look perfect.”

*

“Mate! Do you have a moment?”

Harry turned around with a smile. He’d gone to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement specifically to visit Ron, but hadn’t been able to find him. It seemed he’d been at lunch, since he was clutching a steaming bag. “Sure,” Harry said, and nodded to the empty office next to them, which held nothing but a small table and some chairs around it. “Want to sit down in there so you can eat?”

“I _always_ want that,” Ron said, and collapsed into the nearest chair with a sigh. “Did you get Percy’s owl, then? I was a little worried when you didn’t show up yesterday, and so was he, but Hermione told us not to worry about it. I ‘spect the wards on Nott House probably kept you from getting it.” He dug out a small sandwich that had cheese and tomatoes dripping off it and held it out to Harry.

Harry accepted it and took a bite. He was a little hungry, although he’d have to keep this transgression from the Nott house-elves, who seemed to go mental when Harry tried to do something for himself. “Yeah, it was probably the wards. But I came to see you. What did Percy want?”

“Your help getting Nott’s name off the suspicious list.”

But Ron’s eyes darted away, and it had always been easy for Harry to tell when he was lying, anyway, given the intense flush creeping up his face. Harry narrowed his eyes a little. “Do you want to tell me what that _really_ means?”

“Okay, mate, it’s like this.” Ron took several bites before he continued, but that was a childish delaying tactic that hadn’t worked on Harry since fourth year. Ron finally sighed and said, “You suddenly disappeared into Nott’s house, and the next thing we know, you’re escorting him to society functions and pretending you like him—”

“I _do_ like Theo. I’m not making that up.”

“But part of it is to get people to respect Nott again, right? Take him to their hearts as part of the society he walked out of?” Ron kept on staring at Harry until he nodded. Ron picked up another sandwich. “Right. So this is so sudden that some people think you’re being mind-controlled. That includes Percy. And he is worried about you,” he added hastily, maybe because of the incredulous stare Harry was using to burn the side of his face. “He wasn’t there when you threw off the Imperius Curse in fourth year, you know? He really thinks Nott could be in charge of you.”

“I trust you set him straight.”

“Um. It’s weird, mate. I don’t have any problem with you dating a bloke, but why _this_ one? Why did you suddenly decide you wanted to date blokes, and what does Nott have to do with it?”

“I like Theo,” Harry repeated. When in doubt, speak the truth over and over again, and it was hard for even someone who worried about him as much as his best friend to deny him. “And I don’t know yet if it’s going to end up in dating. Probably.”

“If it’s not, then that article what’s-her-name printed—”

“Lacerobe. Yes.” Harry had been pleased with the article, which was appropriately flattering to Theo without gushing too much over Harry, but he had paused when he first saw the picture that had accompanied it. Of course it was good to know that they were going to fool so many people, but the way that Theo had looked ready to lean over and snog him, and the way Harry’s own eyes had shone in a way that he had never known pictured eyes could…

“That article seems awfully out of line, then.” Ron was watching him with a sharper gaze than normal, one Harry thought Auror training had probably given him. “Because she practically states that you’re getting married tomorrow.”

“Not _tomorrow_. Theo would want at least a week between the announcement of the engagement and the actual marriage.”

Ron paled for a second, then caught himself and rolled his eyes. “Right, mate. Care to tell me what’s actually going on?”

“Theo and I are seeing what happens.” Harry shrugged and finished up his sandwich while Ron stared at him. “Now you know as much as I do, except for secrets that are Theo’s private property. Are you going to tell me what Percy, in particular, is so worried about? I didn’t think he was in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement or responsible for maintaining any list of Death Eaters.”

“Nott’s not a Death Eater,” Ron said, and swallowed some crisps that he’d taken out of the bag as well. “But they do think that he probably knew more about his father than he let on. They want to talk to him, that’s all. Just see if he can answer some of the lingering questions…”

“But he’s not legally required to comply. And the owl that Theo did get this morning didn’t even have a signature or a date on it. They said that they wanted to talk to him at his earliest convenience.”

“Well?”

“That’s not yet. As I advised him.”

Ron groaned, but didn’t spout off as he would have at one time. “You’re speaking about him and protecting him like you would either me or Hermione,” he said, putting his chin in his hand and studying Harry intently. “What’s he done to be worthy of it?”

“Intrigued me.” Harry wasn’t about to try and explain everything that was going on between him and Theo before he understood it himself, and after a few minutes of staring, Ron seemed to get that. He nodded and dug another sandwich out of the bag, handing it over to Harry.

“Well, fine, but you’re the one who’s going to have to deal with Percy yourself. _I’m_ not getting in the way of that.”

“Ah, Harry! A minute of your time?”

“Speak of the devil and he shall appear,” Ron told his sandwich, something that made Harry have to conceal a smile. He was sure that was a saying Ron had got from Hermione. But Percy looked as pleasant as he ever got standing in the doorway of the little room, so Harry turned and motioned for him to come in.

Percy took the chair next to Harry, still looking as if he’d stand up any second. He’d lost a great deal of his pompousness after the war, and especially after Fred’s funeral, but Harry supposed certain qualities would just always be inherent in someone. “I wanted to make sure you were all right, Harry. Disappearing from the public’s sight like that and then reappearing so spectacularly isn’t like you.”

“Oh, but it’s almost a tradition now,” Harry said. “Remember, at the end of my fifth year I emerged from under a cloud of darkness that the Ministry was spreading at the time and proved that Voldemort had returned after all.”

Percy’s flinch at the name was a lot worse than Ron’s, but he nodded, with a stiff smile. “Quite. I just wanted to make sure that you were all right,” he repeated. “And it is strange, you have to admit, that you suddenly have a close friendship with a Death Eater’s son. I remember you playing opposite them on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, but not getting any closer!”

Harry chuckled politely. “I can assure you that Theo isn’t anything like Draco Malfoy was. And I don’t know anything about his father’s doings, and I don’t really know what you’re hoping to get out of him.”

“Well, of course we aren’t planning to interrogate him. It’s only that there are questions about what crimes, exactly, Mr. Nott was involved in—the deceased one, I mean.” Percy played with his robe sleeve for a moment. “And what Death Eater activities he might have financed. And, well, I won’t conceal this from you, Harry. Somehow Mr. Nott killed himself in a warded cell that should have kept him alive no matter what. It was mainly a precaution to protect him from members of a vengeful public, of course, but he shouldn’t have been able to harm himself, either. We want to know what spell he used—”

Percy shut up. For a second, Harry wondered why, and then realized that the air around him had begun to flash with the subdued lightning that had happened when he was in Nott House and reading the letter from the Ministry. With a long sigh, Harry managed to release the buildup. There was no threat here, and Percy was only the messenger.

Still, the messenger could take back a message. Harry fixed a remote gaze on Percy and said, “You want to ask Theo how his father killed himself? Are you insane?”

“I mean, I don’t want to know personally, Harry! Hardly that! But you asked what the Ministry wanted to know, and I answered. That’s the biggest question. They can live without answers to the other ones.”

“You want to ask someone who only left Hogwarts two years ago how his father killed himself,” Harry repeated, and shook his head. “Listen, tell the people who want to know that that they’re more heartless than any Death Eater’s son I know.” He stood up and nodded to Ron. “Thanks for lunch. Tell Hermione that I’ll see her soon.”

Ron smiled a little. It had a sharp edge that Harry knew meant he hadn’t entirely forgiven Percy for what he’d done during the war. Oh, mostly, sure, enough that they got along at the Weasley family dinners, but not enough not to enjoy this. “Sure thing, mate.”

Harry turned and walked out of the room without looking at Percy again. The nice thing about having someone so sensitive to manners and protocol was that he would feel the cut more deeply than someone who didn’t behave “properly.”

Then Harry shook himself and headed directly for the Ministry Atrium and the Floo connections. He’d been fine leaving Theo for a while so that he could see Ron, but he wanted to be back home with him now and explain what the Ministry wanted, and why exactly Theo should never grant it to them.

*

“I suppose that it’s just punishment, in a way.”

“What do you mean?” Harry spun around in the middle of the dining room. Tiny blue bolts actually leaped from the palms of his hands, and Theo blinked. He had heard _legends_ of people who did that when their powerful magic was roused, but he’d never actually seen them. “Nothing about what they’re trying to do to you is just!”

“Only that it sounds like something pure-bloods would have tried to do to Muggleborns a few years ago,” Theo said. And it was all he had meant, but he still felt a shiver move down his spine as he watched Harry ready to defend him, even from himself. “If it’s turned back on me now, it’s all I deserve.”

“Maybe the Death Eaters would have deserved it,” Harry said, as flat as the floor. “Maybe your father would have. _You_ were a kid. You don’t!”

“But other kids were out there hunting down ways to defeat the Dark Lord, or fighting the Carrows in Hogwarts itself. I never did any of that.”

“The vast, vast majority of Hogwarts students never did! Not just the Slytherins! If you keep telling me this stupid shit, I’m going to go change all the sheets on your bed to _flannel_!”

Theo choked. Then he laughed aloud. Harry paused for a moment, but lowered his hands and smiled a little.

“Do you even know where my bedroom is? And I don’t know if you could get past the personal wards that I have on the room, even though you can get past the ones that are on Nott House in general.”

“It wouldn’t matter. I would have Peony take me in.”

Theo sighed. Of course the most incorrigible of his house-elves was the one who had taken the greatest shine to Harry. “Before you do that, or before you accuse me of needing to see a Mind-Healer, let me tell you something.”

Harry grimaced and took a seat in one of the new set of dining chairs of birch wood that they’d bought from Madam Marlayne, his fingers rapping on the table. Theo nodded a little and sat down across from him.

“I didn’t start feeling that kind of guilt until you showed up.”

Harry immediately surged halfway to his feet, opening his mouth, but Theo fixed him with a patient gaze, and Harry seemed to remember that he was talking and sat down with a little grimace. Theo nodded.

“It made me realize that I’d gone numb when Father died. I simply sat there, and let the world revolve around me, and did nothing more than I absolutely had to, like making sure the wards were strong and the house-elves cared for. Harry—you woke me up. Pain is a part of life returning to any numb limb. Let me feel it, please.”

Harry tilted his head, which Theo had already realized didn’t mean he agreed. “That doesn’t mean you have to blame yourself or go in and give testimony to the Ministry about your father’s _death_.”

“Not really,” Theo agreed. “I’m going to continue to refuse the Ministry for now, although I’ll speak to them eventually. But allow me to look back and feel guilty for not doing more in the past. If nothing else, we might have properly met before this if I had.”

Harry softened, a smile pulling up his lips in a way that was more beautiful than any picture of him on the front of the papers or visions of him descending the grand staircase of Nott House in dress robes. Theo swallowed. He honestly couldn’t believe that Harry had remained single this long, even if he’d taken months off in his own seclusion to plan what he wanted to do with his life.

Well, no matter. Theo would be taking care of that little problem along with everything else.

“Fine,” Harry said. “As long as you’re not wallowing in your guilt or letting people do things they shouldn’t to you because of it, then I’ll let you feel it.”

“So generous of you, kind sir,” Theo said, with a flutter of his eyelashes perfectly copied from Pansy Parkinson. He’d had seven years to learn it, after all.

Harry looked as if he wanted to gag. “You can keep _that_ to yourself.”

“But you wouldn’t like me to keep everything to myself, would you?” Theo asked, and he had lowered his voice without realizing that he intended to. There was no model for what he wanted to do next in his experience. His father had never acted like this, and anyone attempting seduction in Slytherin House had been laughable.

Harry dropped the gagging expression, and his eyes were sharp as he stood up from his chair. “No. I wouldn’t.”

Theo smiled without really meaning to at the sternly punctuated words, and he made his way around the corner of the table. Harry was waiting for him, watching every movement as though he was about to give Theo advice on his dueling form.

But it wasn’t dueling form that was in Theo’s mind as he stalked up to Harry, as he touched his shoulder, as he ran his hand up the curve of Harry’s cheekbone. He got a flutter of brilliant green eyes. They didn’t close. Harry was still watching him, waiting for him to prove himself.

Theo bent down and gently touched his lips to Harry’s, while clasping his shoulders. Harry shuddered once, and the shudder struck into Theo. He tensed himself, waiting for Harry to pull away—

But then Harry released the softest moan against his lips, and Theo realized what the shudder had really been. He smiled into the kiss, and the last vestiges of the paralysis that had gripped him since the end of the war fell away.

He didn’t hurry, though. He stroked folded knuckles against Harry’s jaw, and felt the stubble there. He ran his left hand through Harry’s hair, and let some of the curls twine around his fingers and then spring back. And he gently laid his tongue against Harry’s lips and left it there.

Harry let out another shudder, and grabbed his waist, as he opened his mouth to allow Theo’s tongue to enter.

Still, Theo didn’t hurry, although he felt Harry’s hands grow tense with impatience against his shirt. He let his tongue dive straight back, then travel in leisurely circles, and Harry leaned heavily against him. _No one’s ever kissed him like this before,_ Theo thought, and smiled again.

By the time he finally licked Harry’s palate and coaxed his tongue into replying, Harry was hard, and twitching a little. Theo stepped back, breaking the kiss, when he thought it best, and Harry stared at him with bright, wild eyes.

“I think that’s enough for today,” Theo said lightly. “Tomorrow, when we’ve had a chance to consider what we each want, we can continue. Do you agree?” And he trailed his knuckles down Harry’s chin again.

Harry gained control of himself with a visible struggle, but he grinned then, and his look was more appreciative than critical. “Yes. But just remember,” he added, and leaned close enough to Theo that Theo found himself leaning back in return, as Harry’s voice dropped to a whisper, “the next time someone says _stop_ , it might be me.”

He flashed one more glance at Theo that wasn’t quite a wink, and walked out of the dining room with his head high. Theo watched him go, and felt a wash of pride and longing pass over him.

It was honorable to give Harry more time to consider this, when they’d barely known each other properly for a week, and honorable was what he wanted to be.

But Theo already knew what he wanted, and was ready to announce it before the entire wizarding world.


	4. Chapter 4

“Have you made your decision?”

Theo took a long swallow of his hot tea and glanced across the table. Harry sat in his usual seat, but with his arms folded on the table in front of him and his eyes dark and challenging. As Theo watched, he touched the side of his mouth with his tongue in what Theo was sure was a deliberate gesture. At least, he couldn’t remember Harry doing it in any of the previous times they’d eaten breakfast together.

_Isn’t it sad, that you already know him so intimately after a few days?_

_Not when it means that I get what I want,_ Theo answered himself, and set the teacup down. “Yes. I want us to remain together. To date in public, and share a bed in private. And perhaps to—associate together permanently someday, if you are willing.”

Harry’s eyes were dark enough now to make it look as if he was drowning. Theo averted his gaze. Perhaps it was embarrassing that Theo couldn’t speak the name of that last step, but for now, he couldn’t.

There was no doubt that Harry understood him, however, as was evident in the low rumble of his voice when he spoke. “I want the same thing.”

“Good,” Theo whispered back, and then cleared his throat as their breakfast popped into being. “But that will have to wait until the end of today, you know.”

“Why?” Harry’s voice was thick, and he looked as though he was about to stand and round the table, reaching out his hand to Theo. Theo spoke rapidly, since otherwise that would happen and Theo _would_ take his hand and they would spend the day in bed.

“We have that charity luncheon that you wanted to attend this afternoon. And I’ve ordered you another robe from Jardinier that the owls delivered this morning. I want you to at least model it for me before we go out.”

Harry paused, then drew back. “I suppose that they will expect to see us at that luncheon, since it’s to establish a magical orphanage with a certain standard of care.”

“I know,” Theo said, and picked up a piece of sausage with his fork so that he would sound more casual and be able to focus on something else as he asked the question. “Is it a cause dear to your heart because you were an orphan yourself?”

Harry was silent for long seconds. Theo glanced at him, and found Harry looking at his plate.

“Yes,” Harry said at last. “And because if there had been a place like that when I was a kid and I knew about it, I would have begged to go there.”

He drank some tea then without looking at Theo again, while Theo considered several responses and decided against all of them. He didn’t think Harry wanted vengeance on the Muggles who had mistreated him, or he would have taken it already. He couldn’t change the past, because he didn’t have a Time-Turner. Apologizing seemed strange when Theo had had nothing to do with it and Harry had already admonished him not to take so much guilt on himself.

So, for the moment, Theo said, “I’ll make sure that you never feel uncared for again.”

Harry’s head jerked a little, but he continued to study his food. When he looked up again, his face had settled into the gentle expression that Theo was rapidly becoming familiar with.

“Thank you,” Harry whispered. “There’s nothing else I would want from someone who wanted to date me.”

Theo chose a frown of confusion. “ _Nothing_?”

“Well.” Harry grinned at him. “Nothing that’s an appropriate thing to think about when we’re preparing for that charity luncheon and have to be out of the house for several hours.” He drank the rest of his tea and stood up. “Where is this robe? And what kind of color is it? I can’t be seen wearing aqua so soon after the last set of robes, you know. It won’t do.”

“It was _aquamarine_ ,” Theo began, and then shook his head and finished his own breakfast instead of answering. It seemed he wasn’t the only one who had to offer some emotional clarity and then retreat.

But he did promise himself that he would do his best to be worthy of what Harry had offered, always.

*

“Potter. You look—pure-blood.”

Harry offered a bland smile to the woman who had bustled up to him. It had taken him a moment to recognize her as Pansy Parkinson. She wore pink robes that were flattering, in a way, and she had her dark hair neatly combed back and styled. “I’ll take that in the spirit in which it was intended.”

Parkinson stared at him. Harry gave a small nod and shot a glance over her shoulder to where Theo was standing, conversing with Draco Malfoy and someone who was probably Blaise Zabini, near the head of the table. He would sit on Harry’s right hand, since the organizers of the luncheon had insisted on Harry taking the head.

Harry would have rolled his eyes if he could, but it would look good for Theo. That was the only reason he hadn’t objected more strongly.

“Rumor has it that you’re escorting our darling Theodore,” Parkinson said abruptly. “Is it true?”

“Oh, no,” Harry said, and watched as Parkinson seemed unable to decide between confusion and glee before he added, “ _Theo_ is escorting _me_.” Then he stepped past her and made his way towards Theo.

Theo’s eyes raked over him, and that look that was nearly ownership appeared in his eyes. Harry couldn’t imagine himself tolerating it well from many people, but Theo had to be an exception for nearly everything. He let his hand rest on Theo’s elbow and nodded at Zabini and Malfoy.

“So you and Theo are really dating.” Zabini had no expression on his face, which Harry thought must have been useful if Slytherin was really occupied by as many pricks as it sounded like.

“Yes, we are,” Harry said. He felt Theo’s free hand move to touch his shoulder. Harry let himself relax into that, and watched for Zabini’s and Malfoy’s reactions.

Malfoy stared in what seemed like big-eyed confusion. Zabini just nodded and said, “Congratulations,” then turned away to speak to a witch in Ministry robes who Harry assumed was one of the organizers of the event.

“Did you not hear what I said about being _cautious_?” Malfoy hissed.

“I couldn’t even tell who you were talking to at the time, me or Harry,” Theo said, with a slight shrug. “So of course I ignored you.”

“You shouldn’t take someone who isn’t a pure-blood as your consort, not if you want real political power,” Malfoy said. He had evidently decided that Harry’s ears didn’t work. He leaned towards Theo, and his face was pale and sweating. “Potter is fine as an establishing stage, but you’ll want to leave your options open for an alliance marriage after you get your name accepted again.”

“Harry is my permanent choice.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. That was more emotion than he had heard out of Theo any time they were in public, and Theo was leaning forwards slightly as if to emphasize the height difference between Malfoy and himself. Against what seemed to be the purposely dim lighting of the luncheon event—which was taking place in one of the “normal” rooms off the Department of Mysteries—he loomed like a shadow.

Malfoy gave an irritated sigh, but from the way his eyes darted about, Harry thought “nervous” would be the more accurate label. “Fine, but don’t say that I didn’t warn you, that’s all.” He turned and bustled over to Parkinson. Watching in interest, Harry noted that he didn’t stretch out his arm to accept her hand the way he would if he was escorting her as Theo escorted Harry.

“So they aren’t dating?” he murmured, and led Theo’s gaze to the two of them.

Theo shook his head. “Draco is waiting for a witch who’s a few years younger than us and doesn’t want to get married so soon out of Hogwarts. Pansy needs someone who has more political cachet than the Malfoys do after the war to drag her own name out of the muck.”

“Why would she need to do that?” Harry started to step away from Theo as a small bell rang and signaled the beginning of the luncheon, but Theo touched his arm and drew out the chair for him instead.

Harry met Theo’s eyes. Theo only went on looking at him as though he was the center of the universe. Harry felt his face flush, and quickly sat down and let Theo push the chair in for him.

It wasn’t that he really _minded_ being looked at that way. But he didn’t want Theo to expose himself to staring eyes unless it was for some better reason than this.

“You don’t read the papers at all, do you?” Theo asked in an undertone as he took his own seat and then reached out to pick up a dish of flatbread covered with spices and emanating shimmers of heat. He handed it to Harry. “Or listen to gossip, which is how I know this. I didn’t read the papers either, after all.”

“Well, no. I didn’t. I wasn’t part of pure-blood society until now.” Harry used a fork to pick up a piece of flatbread and then handed it on, shaking his head when Theo promptly reached for another dish. Theo rolled his eyes back, but nodded in understanding, and settled back to let other people have a chance at the food.

“Of course pure-blood society turned against her because she suggested throwing you to the Dark Lord.” Theo’s face was flat and his voice casual, as if he was discussing a not-particularly-interesting fashion idea.

“But—no one could know that I would win at the time! She shouldn’t be penalized for that.” Harry scanned the table for Parkinson. Yes, there she was, sitting next to Malfoy. Someone handed a dish past her. Her wineglass was still empty. She flushed and poked at the small lump of potatoes that was the only food on her plate right now.

“But that’s the way we are.” Theo shrugged a little and apparently decided he could go back to handing the dishes to Harry, as he snagged a huge bowl of salad and placed it firmly in front of Harry’s plate. “Of course blood matters, but so do magical and political power, and the winds blew due Harry Potter after the war.”

Harry winced a little. He didn’t like the thought that had been the case for Parkinson regarding him no matter _what_ she’d said, and he didn’t like that he had caused it and never known about it.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath as he took the salad and reluctantly picked up a strip of some kind of magical beef at Theo’s iron-eyed insistence. “I wonder if I should tell someone—I mean, would announcing in public that I forgive her be enough?”

Theo interrupted his thoughts by reaching out and clamping his fingers over Harry’s. “I forbid you to do that.”

“And why?” Harry let a little coolness slip into his voice. Yes, he liked Theo a lot and he was willing to be guided by him when it came to some of the ways that they had to act among pure-bloods, but that didn’t mean he would just hand over control of his world or his life.

Theo leaned in close enough that his lips brushed Harry’s ear. Harry shivered, and forced himself to ignore that.

“Because it would come across as a sign of weakness,” Theo murmured. “You could forgive her if she had made some gesture of restitution and an apology. For you to offer acceptance before she does any of that…it would make others think that you have a soft heart and no political sense.”

“I’ve weathered those accusations before.”

“Not when you were with me.”

“So you’re concerned about how my weakness would reflect on you?” Harry winced a little, but, well, he’d known Theo wasn’t perfect. He supposed it was better to discover the truth like this rather than in some context where it mattered so much.

“In part.” Theo tightened his hand over Harry’s. Harry started. He hadn’t even noticed Theo was still holding it. That was how comfortable he had become in such a short time with Theo touching him. “But in truth? I know that Parkinson would take advantage of you. It wouldn’t be long before she insulted you. And others would think they could get away with it, as well. I don’t want to have to fight duels for your honor, or for you to do so constantly. Wait for her to make the apology. She knows full well what she has to do. Her pride is just getting in the way.”

Harry eyed him. “I would win the duels. You probably would, too.”

“But it’s tiresome, when we could be doing other things. And I don’t like watching you in danger, or having to curse someone to teach them a lesson.”

Harry nodded slowly and returned to his meal. It was true that he hadn’t considered the ramifications of Parkinson not choosing to apologize to him. She could have written him an owl, and he would have received that, even if he hadn’t been reading the _Prophet_.

Theo attended him throughout the rest of the meal, but not outrageously so; he called softly for a house-elf to fill Harry’s glass of water when it emptied, and he did insist on passing Harry the salad again, because he must have noted how much Harry enjoyed it. Harry caught Theo’s eyes at one point, and saw them shining.

Harry was used to stares, including ones of open affection and admiration.

They were still nothing like the look on Theo’s face.

Harry ducked his head, his own cheeks flushing violently, and got on with eating.

*

“So you admit that the dark blue robes I chose for you are just as good as the aquamarine ones?” Theo admired the sweep of the cloth as Harry walked past him, and Peony popped up to shut the door of the sitting room.

“Of course,” Harry said, with a faint surprised tone in his voice as he looked over his shoulder. “I mean, if I have to wear robes this fancy at all.” He tugged at the collar as he sat down in the warm dark-red chair, the color of embers flaring, that they’d bought to replace the dull black one that had been there the first day he visited.

 _Well, at least he didn’t do the tugging when we were in public,_ Theo thought. It was the best compromise he could ask for. “Do you want to wear it all day?”

“No,” Harry drawled, with a raised eyebrow that questioned Theo’s intelligence. “I planned to change into Muggle clothes in a few hours.”

“Or,” Theo said, “you could come into my bed with nothing but your bare skin.”

Harry’s face blazed up again the way it had more than once at the charity luncheon, but he didn’t drop his eyes. Instead, he smiled, and the sight of that smile moved through Theo like a wave, smashing some barriers he hadn’t realized still existed.

And inspiring the thought, _I’m in so much trouble._

“I’d like that,” Harry said, his voice a whisper that might have disappeared under the crackling of the fire if Theo had been standing only a little further from him. And this time, when Harry stood and tugged at his robe collar, it became obvious that collar wasn’t long for this world.

Theo cast a hasty Divesting Charm on the buttons. The robe was too fine to ruin with that kind of haste.

Then he wished that he’d let Harry alone, as the blue robes swung briefly open, then shut again, and he caught a glimpse of scarred, tanned, taut skin. Theo found himself standing still, swallowing, his gaze locked on Harry’s chest for a long minute before he managed to lift it.

And now, of course, Harry had chosen to go slowly.

There was a smile on his face as lazy as summer sunshine while he pretended to fumble with the collar again, and then shed the robes from the top as if the buttons still mattered. He stepped out of them, and Theo caught his breath at how well he moved, and the thick burn mark on his chest. It looked as if something round and searing had caught him there.

But Harry had survived it. He had survived, and now he was standing in Theo’s sitting room, only clad in socks and pants, and tilting his hand.

He studied Theo, and Theo braced himself for a Divesting Charm of his own. But Harry shook his head and made a little move with his hand.

_Take them off. Hurry up._

Theo might have given Harry the same teasing show he’d given in another time and place, but now and here, he simply couldn’t. His fingers dived into motion, and he only nearly popped three buttons as he got the dark green robes open. When he’d shed them, Harry smiled and took his time considering Theo’s body.

Theo had once expected to stand naked before a pure-blood bride, although not until the wedding night, of course. And he had expected to be nervous, especially when that imaginary bride’s eyes lingered on his erection.

Harry’s attention burned his nervousness to ash. Harry considered the line of Theo’s cock in his pants, heavy and beginning to tingle in a pleasant way, and only smiled. Then his eyes came back to Theo’s face.

“I suppose we should try to make it to the bedroom, lest we scandalize Peony,” he murmured.

“She would just make comparisons I don’t want to hear,” Theo muttered, and escorted Harry up to his bedroom as he laughed.

*

Theo’s bedroom still had far too much black, in Harry’s opinion, but it didn’t matter that much. Besides, there were some encouraging signs, like grey pillowcases.

And it wasn’t the black canopy or the heavy shutters across the window that Harry wanted to look at. It was Theo, turning to him with eyes as hungry as though they hadn’t had a very expensive lunch.

“Take off the rest,” Theo breathed.

The tone of command in his voice might have irritated Harry, but he accepted it more as longing and intent than an order. And he did enjoy the way that Theo’s face grew more and more flushed as he stripped off his socks and slid his pants down his legs, until he might have passed as pink and healthy by anyone’s standards.

Not that Harry wanted him to look different, or better by other people’s standards. They had their own, he and Theo.

“Very nice,” Theo said in a shaking voice, and reached out a hand.

Harry felt his legs nearly dump him on the floor at the first stroke to his cock, but he swayed into Theo, and Theo wrapped an arm around his shoulders and kept him upright. Harry pressed his forehead into Theo’s shoulder and enjoyed the near-drunken pleasure that rippled through him.

“You haven’t done this before, have you?”

Theo’s voice had dropped into a dark register that made more than Harry’s legs weak. He shook his head without looking up. But he knew Theo wouldn’t judge him. He knew he didn’t need to flush in shame.

And he knew that, when Theo stopped stroking him, he would reach out and bring his hand back.

“Ah,” Theo sighed against his ear, and kept talking in a tone like running water that mingled with the ecstasy of being touched. “I’m not the best person in the world, Harry. I shouldn’t be so glad that you’ve never known anyone’s touch but mine.”

For a moment, his hand did stop moving, and Harry glared up. Theo kissed the tip of his ear, then his forehead.

“But I _am_ glad,” Theo breathed. “That I’ll be the first one to bring you off and the first one in your bed and the first one sharing your body.”

He didn’t say anything else for the moment, only watching Harry avidly as he touched him, but Harry could hear the other words that hovered, unspoken, in the air.

_And the last one._

“I suppose if I ask you the same question, you’ll tell me that you’ve been seducing pure-blood virgins all throughout your years in Slytherin,” Harry murmured. His own voice had gone throaty, husky, in a way he’d never heard. “Not that I care, because _I’ll_ be the one who’s there now, whether or not I’m the first.”

He felt Theo smile against his neck. “No. My father was rather insistent that I sire no bastards.” He drew back, and although Harry reached out and put his hand on Theo’s wrist when the stroking stopped, he ended up opening his eyes when Theo cleared his throat, too.

Theo was gazing into his face with that light behind his grey eyes that made them appear translucent.

“We’re equals here,” Theo whispered. “Both equally strange, and both equally at the mercy of the other.” He took Harry’s hand in his and flicked his tongue out. The touch on Harry’s fingers was like an electric shock, and he moaned aloud. “Are you ready?”

Harry nodded, entranced, and Theo guided him gently to the bed. His eyes were everywhere, moving over Harry’s hands, neck, scars, and cock, and making everywhere feel equally touched.

_This is where I’m meant to be._

Harry had never really thought that much about having sex with a specific person before. He’d known it would happen someday, that he would want it, but he had been content to wait. Why not? He would find that person, and he would have sex, and it would be good. In the meantime, he’d wanted to sort his life out.

And now, _now_ was the moment, he thought, pulse pounding in his throat as he spread his legs and let Theo look his fill.

*

Theo felt as though he had just broken the surface of water he had been swimming under for far too long.

Yes, his father had insisted that he sire no bastards. He had spoken of sex to Theo exactly as he’d spoken of everything else: as a topic to be guided and ruled and set down at his order. He would choose Theo’s bride when it was time. He had offered several possibilities, simply because chance and time would sometimes get in the way, but Theo had never entertained the notion that he would be able to choose for himself, or that his wife would be someone who wasn’t on the list.

So, honestly, he hadn’t considered sex often. It would happen when it happened, and that was enough. And in the frozen chaos that had followed his father’s death, sex hadn’t been something he singled out.

Now, here he was, about to have sex with the _man_ of his desiring.

A sharp smile curled his lips up, and he saw Harry’s eyes focus on it. Theo leaned over and nudged Harry’s legs a bit further apart with nothing more than a tap on his thigh. Harry obeyed, to his delight. And Theo watched as Harry, without prompting, picked up his own legs, cradling them in his hands, and extended them up and to the sides.

Theo had never thought another man’s arse and bollocks would be a particularly fascinating sight. But when it was the arse and bollocks of the man who belonged to _him…_

Yes. Harry was his.

Theo shuddered and dropped some of the safeguards he’d been keeping in place, just in case Harry became cautious or was shy. His magic rippled out from his skin, for a moment seeming to fill the room with soft grey mist.

Harry’s eyebrows flew up. Then he relaxed in response, and Theo saw the small, leaping blue lightning bolts that he’d noticed more than once now when Harry gathered up his magic around him.

Theo bent over and kissed him, sure that neither of their magic would harm the other’s. And sure enough, the power rose and mingled around them, murmuring in his ears as the song of waves and waters and storms.

Harry reached up and hooked his hands around Theo’s neck. “Theo?” he breathed. Theo opened eyes he hadn’t even realized he’d closed, and met Harry’s blurry, brilliant gaze.

“I don’t want to wait, and you’re still wearing _your_ pants.”

“How remiss of me,” Theo drawled, and reached down to remove them. Then he reached for his wand.

*

Harry hadn’t realized he could feel like _this_. If he’d known, he would have sought out Theo years ago and insisted that they get together _right_ now, and touch each other, and mingle their magic.

But, of course, it wouldn’t have been like this then. He and Theo hadn’t known each other. Theo’s father had still been alive. They had been at least technically on opposite sides of a war.

They’d had too much else to care about.

Now, Harry enjoyed supporting his legs, and watching Theo’s cock emerge from his pants—long and slim and bright red—and Theo’s wand swishing, and then he shuddered at the sudden surge of coolness in his arse and the sensation of something he hadn’t realized was tight carefully loosening.

“There will be other times when we can go slower,” Theo said, breathless, putting his wand aside.

“That’s fine. There will be _so_ many other times,” Harry said, and lifted his legs higher, although his arms were beginning to ache in a way that reminded him of heavy labor. “Get over here and do some fucking, won’t you?”

Theo’s hands were trembling as he reached out and dragged one of the pillows from the top of the bed down. Harry didn’t mind about that. It wasn’t like his own weren’t, as he finally let his legs fall and his hips rest on the pillow.

Theo’s eyes were full of awe as he eased his own slick cock towards Harry, barely testing with his fingers. The spell must have taken care of that, Harry thought, blinking a little, and suspecting that he was learning some very important things about sex backwards instead of the way most people would learn them.

But when he felt Theo inside him for the first time, he decided he didn’t care about that. He tilted his head back and snarled in ecstasy as he clenched down, and new pleasure tore and spiraled through him.

“ _Move_.”

*

Theo didn’t actually understand the hissed word that escaped Harry’s lips, but he doubted it mattered. He was only holding so still in the first place so that he didn’t come and embarrass himself.

Biting his lip fiercely, he reached out and smoothed Harry’s hair back from his forehead. The scar his father had tried to teach him to hate looked like a badge of triumph now, and Harry’s eyes were as fierce and bright as his.

“Move,” Harry said, this time in English.

Theo nodded, and began cautiously to thrust. Pulling out and sliding back in made his breath stutter. No, he’d never thought enough about sex. He’d never known it would feel _this_ bloody good.

“That’s too shallow,” Harry said. “Come on, faster. Really act like you _want_ to fuck me, Theo.”

“I want to make love to you, come to that,” Theo said, but the words tumbled out of his lips in a helpless mush when Harry clamped down and thrust himself back on Theo’s cock at the same time.

The pleasure that swept over him was unreal, and Theo could barely manage to reach down and touch Harry’s cock. He tried to direct some of his magic through his grasp, because he wanted to share this.

From Harry’s shaky breath, he might have succeeded. And then Theo surrendered himself to his own stroking, with both his cock and his hand, and external reality lost its grip on him.

*

Harry felt as though he had started falling a long time ago and couldn’t see the bottom of the abyss yet.

But it didn’t matter, because Theo was there with him. Theo, with his tumbled dark hair and luminescent eyes. Theo, with his fervent gasps and talented hands and the cock that was introducing Harry to new ways to feel.

And Harry reached out for what he knew was coming. He locked his fingers with Theo’s somehow. The distant thought flashed into him that maybe he was clasping the hand that Theo had been using to touch his cock, and that meant he probably wouldn’t be able to touch Harry again.

It didn’t matter. Harry was certain he would come.

Theo stroked with his cock one more time, and _yes_.

Harry hit the bottom.

He cried out sharply as the pleasure surged through him and out of him, and he felt Theo following, without a pause, without an end. It seemed as though Harry’s orgasm grew keener, longer, because of Theo’s, but that might have been his imagination.

He really wasn’t thinking very clearly, even when it ended and he found himself panting up at Theo, blinking slowly. He reached out for Theo and drew him down, ignoring the wet feeling that happened as they parted.

This was what he wanted.

This was what he had.

It had been one of the best decisions of his life to Apparate to the gates of Nott House that day, Harry was convinced.

*

Theo ran his hand down Harry’s forehead, and felt the roughness of his scar. He wondered if anyone had ever touched it and told Harry he was beautiful at the same time.

He had no way of knowing, and he didn’t want to ask right now. But he _could_ do something he was fairly certain no one had ever done, and he did it now, leaning over and pressing his lips to Harry’s scar.

Harry froze and blinked at him. His lips parted, and then he reached up and linked his fingers around Theo’s wrist like a cuff as he leaned in to kiss his lips.

He didn’t have to say that what Theo had done to his scar was indeed a unique gesture. His reaction said everything.

“I hope this isn’t too forward of me,” Harry whispered, when the silence had lingered for long sweet moments and Theo had been content just to watch him. “But I do intend to marry the man I slept with tonight.”

Theo froze. The words he hadn’t been able to speak earlier were suddenly there, and had emerged almost casually from Harry’s mouth.

Except, from the way Harry tightened his hold on Theo’s wrist in the next instant, he was anything _but_ casual. Yet he didn’t push Theo on to respond, either. He lay there, watching him, as if he knew it would take a few moments for Theo’s brain to uncongeal.

Theo took a deep breath and said, “And I intend to marry you. If you’re forward, so am I.”

Harry smiled back at him, brilliant as the sun he had brought so unexpectedly storming into Theo’s life, and drew him down for another kiss without once releasing the hand locked around his wrist. Theo could feel captured by that if he let himself. Detained.

But instead he felt wanted. Clasped. Held.

He wrapped his hand around Harry’s wrist in the same place, imitating the wedding cuff that the Nott family used in place of the more common ring, and said into Harry’s ear, “I couldn’t say it before when I wasn’t sure, but I love you.”

“I love you,” Harry breathed back, like an echo.

It wasn’t an echo. It was a promise, and Theo felt the warmth of that deep into his bones.

There was no pain now. This was the good kind of coming alive.

**The End.**


End file.
